


remembering noah.

by kenzzie



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Fluff, NOAH IS MY BABY, Other, Post-Canon, Tattoos, and a little bit of angst?, not really tho, the fic where they all get tattoos for noah
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-24
Updated: 2018-07-24
Packaged: 2019-06-15 09:18:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15409767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kenzzie/pseuds/kenzzie
Summary: The gang gets tattoos to commemorate Noah.





	remembering noah.

**Author's Note:**

> please forgive my lack of knowledge about the tattooing process, i've never gotten one before and have no clue how it works. 
> 
> also, this is my first fic, and constructive criticism would be appreciated :) enjoy!!
> 
> (p.s. thanks to my lovely sister for proofreading this and listening to my incessant brainstorming.)

“I had a thought,” Gansey announces, out of the blue.

The day has been lazy and quiet, one made specifically to do nothing in particular--to wander aimlessly about and speak very little while still remaining in each other’s company. It is one of those rare times when Adam and Blue don’t have work, when Gansey doesn’t have one event or another, and when Ronan has left the Barns to drive into Henrietta. 

They’ve taken advantage of this opportunity, choosing to spend the day back at Monmouth, where they are now piled on Gansey’s bed. It should not be physically possible, given the size of the bed compared to four (three and a half, accounting for Blue’s size) grown bodies, but somehow they manage. It’s not like they mind being piled and tangled in each other, even if it isn’t the most comfortable of positions. 

They are all horribly codependent, and they are all aware of their horrible codependence, and yet no one is eager to address the topic, especially with fast approaching college departures for some and plans to travel the world for others. Instead, they spend as much time as they can together, soaking up the last few days in each other’s company. 

Adam is the first to address Gansey’s previous comment, which is still hanging in the air, with an affirmative “hmmm?”. The others put in their responses as well, looking at Gansey to continue.

He takes a moment, as if regaining his train of thought, and says slowly, “I think we should do something to memorialize Noah.”

“Oh,” Blue breathes, seeming to be taken by surprise. An unfamiliar expression flits across her face. It isn’t quite grief; they have all, for the most part, gotten past the grief that had consumed them for one, two months. Now it is nostalgia, a sadness that isn’t unbearable, but makes their hearts ache. “How?”

“Oh, I don’t know. I hadn’t gotten that far.”

“Plant a tree?” Adam suggests. “Scrapbook?”

“Scrapbook, Parrish, seriously?” Ronan scoffs, but it lacks any true harshness. 

The tips of Adam’s ears bloom red. “Well, I didn’t hear you suggest anything, Lynch. Care to contribute?”

The question sits there for a moment before Ronan says, “Tattoos.” It isn’t nearly a question, but it isn’t a demand either, simply a statement suspended in between them. 

They all look towards each other and nod slowly, surprised that Ronan of all people could come up with an idea that is actually—well—good.

“Tattoos,” Gansey says firmly, which officially finalizes the idea. 

Without a word, Adam detangles himself from the pile and heads over to Gansey’s desk, rummaging through the clutter before finding what he was looking for. He walks back to the bed, holding up sheets of scrap paper and various mismatched pens. 

“We better figure out what we want to get.”

///

The four of them end up sprawled on the floor, hunched over their respective pieces of paper. Crumpled balls are scattered around them, either failed attempts or simply a product of their anger. 

They don’t talk much while sketching and brainstorming. A few words are spoken here or there, but otherwise they remain silent, lost in their own thoughts. 

Blue is the first one to come up with her design. It is a small and cartoon-like ghost, with a thin line making up the outline and two oblong ovals for eyes. 

Adam opts for an even simpler design; the initials N.C. in a crisp typewriter font. 

Ronan’s page is filled with sketches ranging from intricate to plain, but doesn’t end up choosing any of them. Instead, he goes for a single word. Remembered. 

///

It is roughly an hour later, and Gansey still doesn’t have any ideas. He has scrapped nearly a whole journals worth of papers, and is tapping his pen impatiently on a fresh blank sheet. 

The others, having finished their designs, are talking in hushed tones, so as not to interrupt Gansey’s train of thought. Their conversation flows naturally and easily, varying from lighthearted wonderings to serious thoughts. 

Gansey, all the way across the room, runs a hand through his hair frustratedly, dragging it over his face and bringing his fingers to rest on his lips.

“You know what?” he says abruptly, speaking to himself or everybody or nobody in particular. “The right design will come to me in the right time. I won’t hold you guys up.”

“Great,” Ronan says, one hand absentmindedly carding through Adam’s hair, who is resting on his lap. “Let’s go get em.”

Adam raises a fair eyebrow at him. “Well, you know I am all for that, but don’t we have to make an appointment for these things ahead of time? 

“Don’t worry,” Ronan says, shooting Adam a wink. “I have connections.”

///

Ronan’s connection ends up being a laid back girl, no older than them, by the name of Wren. She’s an intern, with platinum blonde hair and long limbs and a wide smile. Tattoos dot her arms, all simple black linework. They resemble offhand doodles in a notebook, plain yet characteristic. 

“Ronan Lynch,” she says, eyes glittering, “how are you? How’s the tattoo?”

“Everything’s great. Was wondering if you could fit us in, we have the designs and everything.”

“Lucky for you,” she says while flipping through a hefty book, presumably for scheduling appointments, “I don’t have anything scheduled. Who’s going first?”

Blue volunteers, and the boys crowd around her chair, eager to watch. Gansey offers to hold her hand, but Blue scoffs at the suggestion. 

“Just have Ronan stand by me,” she suggests, “so if I’m in pain I can just punch him.”

Ronan raises his eyebrows at this, obviously taking it as a challenge, and moves until he is right next to Blue. She smiles wickedly at him. 

Blue’s tattoo is over as quickly as it started, no time to be in pain, and yet she still manages to punch Ronan three times just for the hell of it. Afterwards, she spends an eternity marveling over her forearm, where the small design is located, running her fingers oh-so-lightly over it. 

Adam opts to go next, and takes his seat on the chair. Ronan peers over his shoulder as it is being done, hawk eyes following the needle as it traces over Adam’s index finger. It doesn’t hurt as much as Adam would expect, only a small prick of pain, and it takes even less time than Blue’s. Adam brings his hand up close to his face to inspect the small initials, lips curving into a smile.

Ronan lays face down on the chair, offering up the only empty space on his back, right above his existing tattoo on his neck. His design takes more time, but the needle is almost therapeutic to him, bringing him back to the long sessions. He stands when it is done, back to the mirror, eyes roaming the bold letters with a look of satisfaction. 

Gansey, while having watched the others, had been lost in his head the whole time, alternating between gnawing on his thumb, smoothing his hair, and worrying his lower lip. It wasn’t until the very last second when he finally decided. 

After explaining his loose idea, he allows Wren to tweak some aspects before setting it in ink. The process is painful, yes, but Gansey can hardly feel it, as he is too enraptured with watching it happen in the mirror. 

When it is finally done, Gansey stands to admire the finished product. Roman numerals stretch across his side, right below his ribs; the date when Noah’s life was sacrificed for his all those years ago. It is all too fitting, Gansey decides.

They take a while to gawk over their tattoos, pulling at each other’s limbs for a closer look, until Wren interrupts to walk them through the aftercare. Eventually, they leave the parlor with various lotions and gels, shouting their thank you’s over their shoulders. 

///

The day ends how it started, the four of them crowded onto Gansey’s bed. 

“Well,” Gansey announces, out of the blue. “I think Noah would approve.”

“Yeah,” Adam says softly, turning his head to look at Gansey. His dusty hair falls over his face as he does so. “I think he really would.”

“I think he would like mine the best, though,” Blue states rather matter-of-factly.

Ronan sits up abruptly, looking thoroughly offended. “Oh, yeah, Maggot, how much you wanna bet?”

**Author's Note:**

> kudos and comments are much appreciated!! <3


End file.
